


A Deal With the Devil

by panda_parade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith just wants Lance to be happy, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance and Keith are in love, M/M, Past Keith/Lance (Voltron), Suicide Attempt, i don't know what else to put rip, i mean they love each other but, keith is the devil, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_parade/pseuds/panda_parade
Summary: Lance had made a deal. A deal that was supposed to help him escape from the bad parts of his childhood. And here he was, living a life  set on a 20-year timer. But something's not right. Someone is missing.20 years later, and he meets that someone again, coming to him in the form of a mysterious stranger. He should be happy... but his timer's resetting.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66
Collections: Klance (Voltron)





	A Deal With the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> So this was something I wrote for a writing competition thing that I adapted to fit Klance,,, my writing isn't usually this angsty but here we are
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! There're mentions of self harm and a suicide attempt in this. It's right after the, '"Why did you let me do it?" Lance finally asked.' So if you want to skip reading that part, you can press control F and type in "I saw how unhappy you were" and it should take you right to the next part

It started with a glance. A gentle droop of the eyes, shamelessly trailing down Lance’s body, then back up again. Then came his dimples, lips lifting ever so slowly, as if Cupid had wrapped the strings of his bows around them and were pulling them up. Lance thought he seemed beautiful, but he wasn't sure. His office's annual new year's masquerade hid the man from his curious gaze, a mask carefully settled at the gentle curve of his nose. 

Their charade had continued for three years now: lusting eyes, flirtatious smiles, then the blink of an eye and he disappeared, and Lance would be back to chatting with his friends as if nothing ever happened. It was always the same routine. But this year... this year it was different. The man hadn't melted into the crowd, hadn't simply vanished within a sea of black suits. Lance didn't have a friend to pull him from the trance he found himself in when their eyes fell upon each other. The man was approaching him, taking slow, careful steps. One of his arms was elevated, fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass, the liquid within splashing dangerously against the rim. He came to a stop, pointing at Lance before beckoning for him to follow. Then he turned and slipped between people, gracefully weaving amongst those who were making every spot on the ground their own dance floor. 

Determined not to lose his mystery person, Lance shoved his way through his co-workers, muttering half-hearted apologies as he kept his eyes trained on that one man. The man for whom the crowds seemed to part, who seemed to radiate elegance, who seemed to bend time itself to his will, slowing it down those few times Lance had locked eyes with him. 

Lost in thought, he didn't realize he had followed him onto the balcony before a gust of cool wind shut the glass door behind him. The man’s silhouette loomed against the night sky, illuminated only by the light from the party behind them. He was facing away from Lance, looking at the millions of twinkling lights, expanding to the line of tall buildings in the distance. 

Lance had thought about this moment many times. Practiced what he would say if he ever got the chance to talk to his mystery man. And now it was here, he finally had his chance. Now, standing at the cusp of what could become something wonderful, he was lost to the very words that once formed a symphony in his mind, always present.

"It's close to midnight." Lance started at his voice, not expecting Mystery Man to speak. It was silky and smooth, dripping across his skin like honey, a firm edge to it all the same. A deep tone that sent a burst of electricity to the twitching butterflies in Lance's stomach, causing them to flutter about rapidly. 

Lance cleared his throat and found his voice. "Yeah, it's going to be a new year soon."

There was a pause, the man still turned away. Lance fidgeted with the hem of his suit jacket. "Who are you?"

"Ever made a deal with the devil, Lance?"

"What?" 

The man finally turned to face him, raising his glass to his lips before taking a small sip. "Have you heard that phrase before?"

"I– yeah."

"Do you believe in the devil, Lance? Or in the concept of heaven and hell?"

Lance didn't answer his question. Instead, he took a hesitant step backward. "Who are you?" he repeated. 

"I am here to fulfill your request."

"What?"

"Don't you remember?" The man shook his head disapprovingly, tipping his glass back again. "Growing up all you ever wanted was to not be overshadowed by your siblings. They were better than you academically, socially, even in hobbies that were yours and not theirs." He took a step toward Lance, his feet dragging along the ground. "Your parents didn't care about you. You were never good enough." Another step. "All you wanted was their validation, for them to notice you. Your brothers and sisters took that all away from you." 

Lance's heart stuttered. The man was much closer now, taking occasional sips from his drink as he walked forward. Slow realization dawned on Lance on just who the man might be, and he was trapped between wanting to run away, to preserve his artificial happiness, and wanting to throwing himself into the man’s arms, the source of his true happiness. 

"You took matters into your own hands," the man continued, oblivious to Lance's inner turmoil. "Decided that the emotional pain was too much. You needed a distraction. You opted for physical pain. Your parents found out. They wanted to send you to rehab. They thought you were the cursed child."

"Stop it." Lance was walking backwards now, moving toward the door. 

"And so, you made a deal with the devil." The man stopped completely, playfully swinging his glass. "Sound familiar?"

"I regret it. I regret what I did every single day." His ankle buckled and his elbow was scraping against concrete before he knew what happened. Wincing, Lance cradled his arm.

The man shook his head. "Don't worry about that. You won't be using this body for much longer."

They were close enough to hear the shouts of excitement that floated past the doors as the countdown to the new year began. Lance glanced desperately between the door and his mystery man. He stood up slowly, stumbling a bit on his ankle, which sent a wave of pain up his leg. 

"Ten!"

"You can't run, Lance."

"Nine!"

The man closed the space between them in a single step. Despite the cool night air, and the situation he was in, a bout of warmth sprouted on Lance’s skin when the man placed a steady hand on his waist.

"Eight!"

With his free hand, the man tugged at his mask, removing it and confirming what Lance was trying his hardest to hope wasn't true. 

"Seven!"

Bright indigo eyes met his gaze, burning with a familiar intensity. Lance felt trapped. The man’s – Keith’s – stare kept him frozen in place. He was too scared, too in awe, to even breath, not wanting to change anything in this very moment, yet alone make a run for it. 

"Six!"

Lance's brain was arguing with itself. He needed to run, needed to get away from Keith if he valued his life. 

"Five!"

But how could he possibly want to leave his embrace? To leave the only reason his life had been worth living for the past two decades? And even before then, when Keith had been his only source of light in a pitch black darkness. 

"Four!"

Lance had to remind himself that he gave him happiness, but he was about to take it away from him. Keith was going to make his life a literal hell. He needed to go. He needed to...

"Three!"

Keith smiled gently, his eyes burning through Lance, holding him up as the latter melted against the former’s chest. 

"Two!"

"You made a deal with the devil, Lance."

"One!"

"Time to pay up."

"Happy new year!" The cheers echoed through the glass and burst into the night air, before promptly being dragged away by the wind. But Lance wasn't paying attention to any of that.  
How could he when Keith’s lips were against his? When his hands were ushering him closer and his lips were pressing harder? Every touch, every breath, every movement of his lips sent a new wave of shivers down Lance’s spine. It was rejuvenating. It made him feel alive. He made him feel alive. Just like he had all those years ago. The irony of it struck him. Funny how the person that was draining his life was the same one that was making him feel like he was breathing for the first time in a long while. 

The world started to blur around him. 

And then he was falling...

Lance awoke with a jolt. He looked around at his surroundings. He was back in that room. His room. The same one he had spent countless nights trying to fall asleep in, his pillows muffling his sobs, his blankets comforting him as they heaved along with his body. Bad memories flooded his thoughts, an array of emotions awakening within him, but not a single one displayed itself in his expression.

Lance looked up to see... him. Keith. He had made him so happy. Gave him the best twenty years of his life, and then swiped it all away with nothing more than a kiss. Lance ought to hate him, but couldn't bring himself to get angry at him.

But something was different with Keith. His elegant posture had dissipated, his confidence seeping out of him and hardening into a man with sad, longing eyes. "Well, here you are, Lance ."  
Bright indigo orbs trapped him in their gaze. "You got the best twenty years of your life. Now you're going to grow up again, remembering those times, but not being able to look back and feel happy. Or, show that you're happy, actually."

Lance pushed himself up and off his bed. He realized that he was much younger now. The revelation sent a bout of panic skirting through his veins. 

Keith looked into the distance, seeming to debate something with himself before sighing. A brisk wind picked up out of nowhere, spinning around him faster and faster until he was completely obscured. Then all at once it disappeared, leaving a younger version of him that looked about fourteen, Lance 's current age.

A name popped into Lance’s head and tumbled out of his lips before he could stop it. "Red."

A warm smile spread across Keith’s face at the old nickname, born the night they had attempted to put on a two-man show of Little Red Riding Hood. Lance had insisted Keith play Red, saying his longer hair matched the character better.

Lance was snapped out of it as Keith reached for his hand, before stopping himself. "Why'd you do it, Lance? Why'd you make a deal with the devil? Now you can't feel happy. Ever."

"Why didn't you tell me you were his son? Or that you were the heir to his throne?"

Keith grasped for words, stuttering out the beginnings of a few sentences before finally settling on, "There wasn't a good time."

"All those years we spent playing in the tree house together, going to school together, talking about the stupidest things together, and you never found the time?" Lance wished he could put emotion into his voice. He knew how he was supposed to be feeling, but he couldn't convey it. No matter how much effort he put into it, his voice traveled out of his mouth in a monotone, his expression no different. 

"I'm sorry." Keith looked down. Shame was evident in the way his cheeks and ears were tinged with a blush. When Lance didn't say anything he looked up, defeated. "I tried to warn you! I told you not to do it. Now you can't be happy."

There was a pause where Keith just looked at Lance, heartbreak evident in his eyes. "I wish I could do something." Keith’s eyes were tearing up, bringing an eerie luminescence to them. 

Lance remembered how close they were, how they held hands by their swing set, how they kissed that one time in the privacy of their tree house, and how hard Keith had tried to convince him against selling his soul. That was back when his dad, the actual Devil, had been alive. Lance never understood why Keith had been so adamant against Lance’s decisions. When he had first told him that he was planning on selling his soul in exchange for escaping the broken shards of his childhood, he’d been expecting Keith to scoff at him. To tell him to stop being ridiculous and believing that things like that existed. Instead, he was met with a pale, panicked boy, who begged with all his might for Lance to think about what he was doing, to take into account how much worse his life would be after the happiness passed. He’d told him, warned him, that when he returned to his normal life the only thing that made him happy would be taken away from him.  
Lance didn’t listen, didn’t understand how Keith knew so much about something normal people would call him crazy for. But when he’d finally gone through the ritual, when he’d come face-to-face with the Devil, he remembered Keith being there as well. He remembered his shock when the Devil had referred to Keith as “son." 

And the next time he saw the devil, it was his childhood best friend. Now he understood why Keith had been so adamant against him making a deal, he knew the consequences better than most anybody. 

But it was too late by then.

He hadn't meant for it to be like this.

"Why did you let me do it?" Lance finally asked. "I know you could have stopped me. You're the devil. I'm not blaming you for my decisions, I'm genuinely asking."

A downcast expression dragged Keith’s lips into a frown. "I was going to at first. But then... then you tried to–" his eyes flicked down to Lance’s forearms and he stopped himself.

Lance followed his gaze, all too familiar with the scars of years of emotional torment etched into his skin until it became a little too much and his cuts went a little too deep. And then he was bleeding, the red trickling from the wounds draining his life with every drop; red was his fall, and Red was his savior. 

Keith cleared his throat, his expression showing that he remembered all too well finding Lance on the bathroom floor in a pool of his own blood. "I saw how unhappy you were, and continuing to live this hell would drive you mad. It was important to me that I didn't lose you, but it was even more important to me that you didn't lose yourself." He ran a hand through midnight-black hair, meeting Lance’s gaze once more. "I knew all that 'deal-with-the-devil' madness would result in terrible things, but at least you'd have twenty years of happiness before it took its toll. What you choose to do with your life now is your decision. And no matter what you do, at least I know that you could experience happiness, even if only fleeting."

Lance wished, wished so desperately that he could show the turmoil of emotions threatening to rip him apart at the seams. Show the love he had always felt for the boy standing three feet in front of him. But it felt as if an empty canvas had settled over his features, refusing to be painted despite all the colors he threw at it. 

“I regret it, you know,” he said quietly, tone no less apathetic than before.

Keith blinked at him. “You weren’t happy?”

“No, it’s not that. It was so much better than being here. In this house, with these people. But it didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” Lance said. He was sure he would’ve been crying if not for the whole not-showing-emotions thing.

Keith’s form flickered all of a sudden, switching back to his older self for a split second before retreating back into the smaller boy in front of Lance. "I have to go," he muttered, his voice breaking.

“Why?” Lance asked. 

“Lance.” Keith smiled at him sadly. “A deal’s a deal. You… you can’t have the thing that made you happy. I can’t be here to make you happy.” His voice cracked.

Lance’s heart broke at the despondent tone of Keith’s voice. Lance didn't want him to leave. His life had been a pitch black night, but Keith had been his last remaining candle. That was before he ultimately struck the match with a deal and set his world ablaze. 

He had no one to blame for this but himself.

Keith fidgeted hesitantly before reaching forward and grabbing Lance 's cold, tan hands in his warm, pale ones. He pressed a kiss to Lance’s lips, quicker than he wanted it to be.   
"I love you, Lance ."

It was gentle, too. It said all the things that needed to be said, the words hanging heavy in the air between them, dripping with despair and want and the future they could’ve had if only Lance had listened. 

"I always have."

Lance tried to bring himself to speak but the words lodged in his throat. 

"Goodbye, Lance ."

Not being able to force sentences through his tightly shut lips, Lance simply squeezed Keith’s hand. Keith smiled sadly at him, seeming to have understood.

He always understood.

But it didn't matter, not anymore. Because he was gone, disappeared into the gentle breeze curling into Lance’s bedroom through the open windows. A cold shiver crept through his hands, missing Keith’s warmth. Only the shiver didn't stop there. It progressed through him until it was suffocating him, wrapping its greedy hands around his heart and squeezing much too tightly.   
He was alone again. Except this time was different. This time he didn't have Keith. His little Red.

His candle had finally burned out.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :))
> 
> my writing isn't usually this angsty, and I'm planning on writing more cutesie-esque fics soon, so if you are at all interested, please stick around, i'd love to have you
> 
> you can always chat me up on insta @therainbowpidgeon 
> 
> drop a comment, let me know what you thought
> 
> again, ty for reading and I hope you have a good day <3


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